


Falling for a fun-time boy

by Tisaniere



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Background Alexander Ovechkin/Nicklas Backstrom - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-05 18:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15176537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tisaniere/pseuds/Tisaniere
Summary: Sid and Tyler are as oblivious as each other, but at least they have their friends.





	Falling for a fun-time boy

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [blindinglights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindinglights/pseuds/blindinglights) in the [PuckingRare2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2018) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> An AU where they aren't hockey players. College AU. How do they meet? Where do they meet? Does one of them find themselves pining for the other? Some mutual pining, but both are oblivious.

Sid tried his best to school his face into something that resembled both the loving support of a friend and the firm wisdom of a man who knew he was right.

“You got the last three wrong.”

“What?” Geno threw himself back on couch and slapped his English grammar textbook over his face with something between a growl of frustration and a howl of agony, “No! But _why_?”

“That’s not how past participles work.”

“I hate English.”

“No, you did really well. Just the last three were wrong, other than that you were perfect.”

“Not perfect if get three wrong.”

“Three wrong is better than twenty wrong. You still got seventeen right.”

Geno threw his books onto the coffee table and sighed. Sid closed the English textbook and started to absently tidy up the mess his friend had made. He felt for Geno, having to consistently work on his English even when he got by just fine. Sid had met some of Geno’s fellow BA engineering students that were native to Canada and was well aware that having good grammar and a wide vocabulary was not needed to get by on their degree. Still, it was a requirement of Geno’s admission to the school and some elements of his visa, and he had improved leaps and bounds.

“Ok, need a beer now,” Geno said with a sigh. Sid uncovered some of his own work underneath Geno’s English homework and prodded at it sadly, “Sid, you too?”

“Yeah. Please.”

The radio was playing an hour of ‘golden oldies’ and the windows were open as wide as they could go. It was hot in their shared apartment right up in the roof of the old townhouse, but there was a breeze doing something to help chase away the intense stickiness. The apartment was tiny, threadbare, had severely sloped ceilings and they had only lived there for the first two weeks of the new school year, but already Sid felt attached to the place. If you stood outside the kitchen and turned your head just right you could see into every room in the apartment: the decent sized living room that was mostly taken up by a huge sectional; the cupboard-sized kitchen; the tiny bathroom with leaky shower and comically small sink; and the three bedrooms with their overflowing expanse of crap and boxes that the three housemates had yet to unpack after their arrival.

Geno handed Sid a beer and he enjoyed palming the chilled, sweaty neck of the beer bottle to cool his hands.

“Hey, it’s ok if I invite friend over tonight?” Geno asked. He’d slumped back down on the couch and had one foot on the coffee table, now cleared of his frustrating English homework. He’d pulled his phone out of nowhere and was typing one handed.

“Er, sure. Who?”

“Alex.”

“Which Alex?”

“Not one you meet before. Radulov.”

Sid wasn’t sure if that last bit was his name or a random Russian word, but he was just pleased to hear it wasn’t Alex Ovechkin. Their apartment was too cramped to contain that man. The whole of Canada struggled sometimes. Sid shrugged his shoulders and took a pull on his beer, “Fine by me.”

“He sad, girlfriend cheat on him.”

“That sucks. How do you know him?”

Geno put down his phone and gave Sid one of the smirky grins that got him out of a lot of trouble with his more uptight housemate, “I know every Russian in Canada. But I promise, no party. Just drink vodka and complain about girls and play video games.”

Sid laughed despite himself, “Sounds fine then.”

Flower took that moment to emerge from the third bedroom in their tiny apartment, his hair on end and only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Hello sleeping beauty,” Geno said, putting down his beer to give Flower a sarcastic and lazy round of applause. Flower didn’t look remotely sheepish as he filled up a glass of water.

“How was it last night?”

“It was a good party. A _lot_ of champagne.”

“Champagne? Wow. How posh exactly _are_ Vero’s friends?”

“Very.” Flower drained most of his glass in two large gulps, “Finally I get to hang around with my own class of people.”

Both Sid and Geno snorted hard enough to hurt themselves a little.

“If Vero thinks you have class then she’s going to be in for a shock.”

Flower settled his towelled ass on the kitchen counter and ignored Sid’s appalled look.

“What’s this about someone coming over tonight?”

“Russian friend. He said his girlfriend cheat on him, he need video games and vodka. Sid is staying. You in?”

Flower didn’t even have to think about it, “I am too hungover to do anything else tonight. So I’ll join you on the video games, but not the vodka.”

Geno’s phone chimed and he took a moment to read the message.

“Ok if he bring friend?”

Sid knew he wasn’t really being asked. Geno did what he wanted, flirting dangerously with Sid’s self imposed strict boundaries, and for some reason Sid usually ended up ok with it.

“I don’t think we can fit this many people in the apartment.”

Geno just rolled his eyes, “Flower, ask Tanger if he want to come. His friend is not Russian, might need more people.”

* * *

Sid came back from the store around 5pm with a few essentials he’d needed. His final year of college was going to be hard on his wallet, but he wanted to hold out on eating instant noodles over the sink for as long as humanly possible.  The apartment was slightly more ruffled than when he left. There were takeout menus spread everywhere, a row of vodka bottles on the pass between the living room and kitchen, and music playing through Geno’s speakers. Geno was nowhere to be seen but the shower was running and tuneless singing floated out. Underneath it all there was the distinctive babble of French coming from Flower’s room. Sid slid his groceries into the fridge and his cupboard, and made his way down their tiny hallway.

“Hey Tanger!” he called into Flower’s room.

“Sid!” The door flew open and Kris Letang appeared, dishevelled. He had the distinct look of someone who had been up 36 hours straight working.

“How’d the project go?” Sid asked, alarmed by the redness of Letang’s eyes.

“All good. Turned in. Never want to do that shit again. But all good. All done. Finished. Done.”

Sid smiled and patted his friend’s shoulder a little nervously. Kris was practically vibrating under his fingertips, “You had bit of coffee the last few days bud?”

“Just a bit.”

Sid looked over Kris’s shoulder at where Flower was splayed on his bed in a ratty Habs t-shirt and a pair of shorts, his laptop balanced on his stomach. Flower gave Sid a meaningful, wide-eyed look over the top of the screen. Sid squeezed Kris’s shoulder a little tighter.

“Let’s get you something to soak it up eh?”

Sid steered their humming friend into the living room, got him a large glass of water, a banana, and stuck a documentary about lion cubs on the television. Flower sloped in not long after, still on his laptop. 

“So who exactly is coming over this evening?” Flower asked as Geno came in from the shower in just a towel. Sid wasn’t sure why his housemates were so averse to wearing clothes in common areas.

“Sasha and his Canadian housemate.”

“Sasha? As in Ovi?”

“No, other Sasha.”

“Your language confuses me,” Flower said, still tapping away at something, “So who is his housemate?”

“Not sure. Apparently he's new, and Sasha think he needs to meet people.”

“Where is he from in Canada?”

Geno shrugged his huge shoulders expansively, “No idea. Your country confuses me.”

Sid pretended to read his book as everyone chirped back and forth and Tanger finally came down from his caffeine high, then crashed on the couch. He lay there snoring for a good hour whilst everyone else got ready, though Sid refused to do more than just throw on a clean t-shirt. It was his house, after all, and Geno insisted that tonight ‘not a party, don’t look so cross Sid.’ Sid still tidied up the apartment a bit, careful to move around Tanger and not disturb him, and the doorbell went half an hour after Geno’s friend was supposed to turn up. Geno stood up from where he was falling out with the wires at the back of the TV for his games console and only needed four huge steps to get their front door. God, their apartment was small.

Alexander Radulov had a gap-tooth but infectious grin, a scraggy beard, and another bottle of vodka to add to the collection. He and Geno greeted each other loudly and with a lot of back slapping and raucous laughter. Once they were done Geno clapped Sid on the shoulder and wrangled him forward.

“Sid, this is Alex. Sasha, this is Sid, my Canadian housemate that I told you about.”

Sid gave Geno a suspicious look as he shook Radulov’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sid,” Alex said, politely, the roguish toothless grin a little less frightening up front where he could see the twinkle in his eyes, “I brought my own Canadian housemate.”

He reached a hand through the open door and pulled someone in.

“This is Tyler.”

A brown haired guy on the tall, skinny side stepped into their entranceway and gave them the sort of blinding smile that made concentrating hard. Sid took a moment to make sure his mouth was closed and was suddenly desperately aware the shirt he’d put on that evening was a little too small on him, and he wasn’t sure whether he’d got it from his clean or dirty laundry pile.

Geno shook his hand and beckoned him to come in. Then Tyler was right in Sid’s space and Sid breathed properly again, and the blood rushed back into his extremities.

“Hi, I’m Sid. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too, thanks for having me over.”

Tyler’s smiled with his tongue curled behind a flash of white teeth. His body was a lot of straight lines clad in a soft black henley and jeans. Disarmingly curly hair that looked bleached by summer sun poked out the back of his snapback. He was holding a six pack and shucked his shoes off without a second thought once the door shut behind him. Sid could never help but be turned on by good manners.

He felt his cheeks heat up a little and willed them to cool. Tyler wasn’t the first boy he’d clapped eyes on and thought ‘wow’. Usually he was a little drunk, though, and at a bar or a hideous nightclub and had no means to talk to the guy in question. But Tyler was in his living room, getting to know Geno, and meeting Flower and Tanger who had entered from Flower’s bedroom. So Sid would have to cope, because Flower could smell Sid’s emotions like some sort of weird, French-Canadian sniffer dog. If he even got a whiff that Sid thought Geno’s friend’s housemate was kinda hot, Sid would have to throw himself into the river.

“Where can I put these?” Tyler asked him, swinging the beers. Sid showed him into to their kitchen where an assortment of vodka and beer bottles were cluttering the surface.

“Think that counts as our drinks table. Thanks for bringing something, though.”

Tyler gave him corner-of-the mouth smile and pushed his beer onto the counter, “Well, you guys didn’t have to let me come over. I did tell Rads it didn’t matter, if he wanted to just hang out and be Russian.”

“He needs to get to know people,” Radulov said, appearing out of nowhere with a shot glass each for them. Sid declined one with a shake of the head, so Rads drank that one himself. Tyler knocked back his shot and Sid was impressed that he barely winced. He knew how strong Geno liked his vodka.

“It’s not preschool and you’re not my Mom,” Tyler told his housemate, though he was grinning. It was the sort of smile that lit up a conversation, easy to bask in.

“Still, want you to make friends so you not cry in your room alone,” Rads chirped. He slung an arm around Tyler’s shoulders and squeezed his cheeks. Tyler told him to fuck off and tried half-heartedly to get out of his grip, but he didn’t seem to care too much about being manhandled. Sid felt hot all over again.

“He’s new,” Radulov explained to Sid, as though he had asked a question, “Transferred here and ended up in house full of Russians. Which is amazing, obviously, he’s lucky boy. But got to find him some of his own kind. Like you.”

“Oh yeah?” Sid asked, a the teasing tone in his voice, “What kind would that be?”

“Hockey. Canadian. Fun.”

“Well that’s a lie, Geno would never call me fun.”

Flower shouted over the back of the couch that they needed one more player for Mario Kart, so Rads took his vodka off towards the others, leaving Sid and Tyler penned up in the tiny kitchen.

“Sorry about him,” Tyler said, leaning back against the counter. He picked up a bottle of Russian vodka and squinted uncomprehendingly at the writing on it, “He’s kinda…literal.”

Sid waved away the apology and started putting some of the beers in the fridge.

“So you transferred then?” 

“Yeah, starting my second year here. The housing thing was kinda tricky. The student housing people put me in touch with the internationals, they have more people coming and going. Rads had a space in his house when the guy they planned to live with went back home to Russia.”

“Where were you before?”

“Boston,” Tyler said simply, suddenly very interested in snapping open his beer. Sid knew an evasive answer when he heard it so he didn’t push.

Tyler beat him to the next question, “You’re a final year right? What’s your poison?”

“Oh, world history.”

Tyler pulled his face, “All that reading. I’m not built for that, I get too bored.”

Sid wasn’t surprised. Whilst they had been talking Tyler had checked out every vodka bottle, pulled the label off his beer, stuck his hands in and out his pockets a dozen times and rearranged the glasses on the countertop twice. He hadn’t stayed still for a second, something that was hard to avoid in such a tiny space. Sid had his back pressed against the door of the fridge in an attempt to give him a little more room, but he wasn’t sure a football stadium would be enough.

“What are you studying then?”

“Kinesiology.”

“That’s…wait, what is that?”

“How the body moves, sports, health, physical activity. That sort of stuff.”

Well the constant need to move around made more sense. “Wow. Is it a lot of science?”

“Quite a bit, but we do a lot of practical stuff. I’m better with learning by doing, but I get through the science things ok.”

A roar came up from the living room and Sid had to stop talking to yell at Geno not to throw the controller at the screen.

“You guys have got a nice place,” Tyler said, once Sid had stopped shouting.

“Oh, yeah. It’s ok. It gets seriously hot during the day when the sun is out. The guys who moved out told us in the winter it’s freezing so…as long as you can deal with extreme temperatures, it’s fine.”

They chatted in the kitchen for an hour. Sid hadn’t even realised how much time had passed until there was a knock at the door for the pizza delivery. It was nice, though, to meet someone so easy to talk to. Sid wasn’t the antisocial gremlin that his friends liked to accuse him of being, but he was more comfortable with people he’d met before. It made making new friends tricky, but he could do it if he stuck to his guns. He hadn’t felt any particular need to steel himself to spend time with Tyler though.

They unstuck themselves from the kitchen for the pizza, ended up at the very end of the too-large couch that took up almost the whole surface area of their living room. It shouldn’t have been attractive to watch Tyler eat pizza, but it kind of was. He opened his mouth distressingly wide for the smallest bite. If Sid could stare as much as he wanted he’d try to work that out, but there was pizza to be eaten and other people he had to speak to, and then of course he was required to wipe the grease off his fingers and actually play some video games. Rads insisted Tyler do the same too.

“You have to play.”

“Why?”

“That’s how video games work, they help with problems with girls.”

“What do you know about video games?” Tyler chirped

Rads’ comeback was immediate. “What do you know about girls?”

Sid was hit with a sudden urge to know exactly what Radulov meant by that, but Tyler’s giggle sidetracked him. The guy laughed with his whole body. It was kind of distracting.

Geno said something low to Alex, and Rads replied without taking his eyes off the screen. Geno screwed up his lips up thoughtfully, shrugged and fell silent for the rest of the race. He smacked the controller in triumph as he finished first and didn’t move an inch when Flower shoulder-barged him in rage.

“You fucking _cheated_!”

“How I cheat?! How I cheat?! Flower tell me, how I cheat?”

Flower called him a string of names and crossed the line in third. Rads was already triumphant in second and Letang limped in last having being attacked by everything under the sun. Sid and Tyler were merged in on the next race and Sid managed not to embarrass himself too much. He was ok at video games as long as he didn’t have to shoot anything, or press too many buttons at the same time.

Frankly he was impressed that he managed to get through the race without a boner. The sight of Tyler bent forward, tongue protruding with concentration and his long - obscenely long - fingers working the controller was right in the corner of his vision the whole way through the night.

As thins wound down, Rads said he was going to crash in Geno’s room, definitely too drunk by the end of the night to go much further.

Kris established that Tyler didn’t live too far from him, so offered to help him find his way back in the myriad of confusing residential streets. Sid walked Tyler to the door as Kris argued with Fleury whether he’d left his phone charger in his room.

“Thanks, again, for having me tonight,” Tyler said. His voice was low and soft, and Sid had to try very hard to pull himself together.

“No worries. It was nice to meet you.”  
  
“Yeah, you too man.”  
  
The lovely moment was ruined when Kris barged between them to get his coat. “Right, let’s go, I don’t want to freeze my balls off.”

Sid thought he might be dreaming when Tyler gave him a slow smile over Kris’s shoulder, and then the door slammed in his face. Back to reality.

Geno frightened the life out of him as he slapped his hands on Sid’s shoulders, “You OK, Sid? Gone all red."

His voice was lilting and suggestive, and Sid smacked his hands away.

“I’m fine. Get off me.”

Geno beamed at him and swanned off back to the couch. Sid ignored him making heart shapes with his hand as he went to pour himself a large glass of water.

* * *

 

Sid bumped into Tyler - quite literally - a few days later. Sid was with Geno and Rads was with Tyler, and they stopped in an awkward foursome and greeted one another on the sidewalk.

“Zhenya, just the man I wanted,” Rads said, looking a little distracted, “We have problem.”

“What’s wrong?”  
  
“It’s fine,” Tyler said, rolling his eyes, “You’re so dramatic.”  
  
“Val wants to go back to Russia.”

Geno’s face turned into a scowl, “What? Why?”  
  
“I don’t know, he won’t say. He’s round at Sasha’s now, I was going to go over there and make him explain. Come with me. He needs to stay.”

They did a bit more talking in Russian whilst Sid and Tyler stood the side, a little confused. Eventually they came to an agreement and gestured to Sid, “You can come too. There’s usually drink at Ovi’s house.”

Sid didn’t have a whole lot else to do that day. He had been tagging along with Geno to the store, but he wasn’t in a particular rush. He agreed, and was secretly pleased when Tyler gave him a big smile as he did so. Tyler was looking good, in a slim fitting, crew neck adidas sweater and dark jeans.

Sid had been to Alex Ovechkin’s house before, and it was always a little overwhelming. He wish he’d got the chance to warn Tyler before they entered. It was a huge, shared house with three floors and an indeterminate amount of rooms. It was thoroughly international, and Sid wasn’t sure what language was being shouted from the attic room but it sounded Scandinavian. It was always cluttered and filled with people, but it was homely.

Ovi welcomed them with a booming hello and a hug for the Russians. He tried to go for a hug with Sid, but he was now an expert at avoiding an Ovechkin embrace, and slipped his way past. Ovi just grinned at him instead. He shook Tyler’s hand as he introduced himself, and showed them into the living room.

Val seemed alarmed at the sudden influx of people. Sid was vaguely aware that Val was one of Radulov and Seguin’s housemates, so he felt sorry for the poor guy. He probably thought he had escaped the discussion by hiding out at Ovi’s house.

Sid wasn’t sure what to do now, as the Russians in the room launched into a tirade against their fellow countryman and his decision. Sid perched on the couch arm and Tyler did the same on the other, both of them exchanging a little look.

Nicklas Backstrom chose that minute to walk in looking annoyed and griped, “Alex I told you to move your shit off our-oh. Hi.”

He blinked at the circle of people in his living room.

“We’re doing an intervention,” Ovi said, standing up and snaking an arm around his steely eyed boyfriend, “And I did move my stuff.”

Nicklas took one more long second to take in the newcomers and then muttered to Alex, “No, you didn’t, it’s everywhere.”

Alex whispered something placating to him and Nicklas rolled his eyes, “Fine. Why are you intervening?”

“Val want to go back to Russia,” Radulov said, “We can’t let him.”

A clearly unhappy Val rolled his eyes. Geno said something that sounded very much like a telling off in Russian. Nicklas clapped his eyes on the lone non-Russians in the room and jerked his head towards the kitchen.

“Drink?”

“Thank you,” Sid said, scooting after him. He heard Tyler’s rapid footsteps following and all three piled into the kitchen.

“You need a big kitchen to deal with this lot,” Nicke said, noticing both Tyler appraising the enormous room. 

“How many people live here?”

“Six of us. Four bedrooms, but six people. And Alex seems to think this is like a mini version of the Russian embassy, so we have people over all the time.”

A skinny guy with a lot of hair on top of his head appeared through a door on the other side of the kitchen as Nicke was sorting them out a beer. Nicke introduced him as Andre, a fellow Swede, and warned him to stay out of the living room.

“They’re holding an intervention.”

Andre screwed up his nose, “Has Ovi been wearing those leggings again? I think he needs to hear it from you, Nicke, ‘cos he just won’t listen to anyone else.”

Nicke rolled his eyes. He looked like he did a lot of that, “No, not Alex. One of their friends wants to go back to Russia. They’re trying to make him stay. And don’t worry, I burnt the leggings.”

The four of them went outside onto a small patio at the back of the house. They could stretch their legs and put them up against the garden wall it was so small, but it was nice to catch the weakening autumn sun. Sid knew Nicke well enough from hockey, and both Tyler and Andre were easy conversationalists. They chatted about their studies, and hockey, and gossip that flew around their social groups like a wildfire even though none of them lived in student halls anymore. Sid wasn’t sure if it was the sun beating down on his head and the fact he’d not worn a cap, or the beer, or the exhaustion from the first few weeks of term, but he could feel a roiling headache start to build at the base of his skull.

After an hour or so he switched from beer to water, and Rads, Ovi and Geno emerged from the house with their own drinks.

“Did you succeed?” Nicke asked.

“Think so,” Geno said, folding his long body onto the floor and pressing his back up against the garden wall, “He says he think about it more.”

Sid watched as Alex gestured for Nicke to stand up, then sat down himself and pulled his boyfriend onto his lap. It was disgustingly cute, Sid thought as he sipped his water. The pair had been together even before college, meeting at a random international boarding academy in Washington in their last two years of high school. Sid had heard their meet-cute story from Geno: someone had been picking on the Swede in the school canteen, Alex had gone in to defend him, and Nicke had ended up punching the bully’s lights out himself. It was apparently love at first sight, and the relationship had lasted through school and into college.

Alex put his beer into his other hand and squeezed Nicky’s thigh as they all talked about some new bar that had opened up downtown.

Sid thought how nice it’d be if he had someone in his life he could do that with. To touch, to feel pressed against him, to show affection to. Then he tried his best not to think about the long, hot line of Tyler against his side where they shared the rickety wooden garden bench.

In the end it didn’t matter what Sid wanted to think about, because all he could concentrate on was his headache.

“You ok?” Tyler asked, giving him a little nudge. He was sure the pain was written across his face but Sid tried to bluff it out. Geno tapped his foot with his own, “Headache?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine.”

It really wasn’t, because he was now starting to feel a little sick too, and couldn’t stop trying to blink away the spots that were appearing in his vision.

“If migraine then Nicke has pills. He gets them a lot,” Alex offered.

Nicklas’s level stare told Sid he was welcome to them if he wanted, but Sid gingerly shook his head.

“No, I’m sure it’s not. I think I just sat in the sun too long. I think I’m going to head home though.”

There was a lot of shuffling to let him out of the tiny patio and a bit of chirping about Canadians and their inability to handle sun, but he finally made it into the cool kitchen and put his glass in the sink. He was impressed he’d managed not to throw up, less impressed that he’d not noticed Tyler follow him.

“You don’t look great,” Tyler said as he trailed him through the house to the front door.

“I’m fine, really.”

Tyler still went through the door with him and followed him wordlessly onto the sidewalk.

“You don’t have to come too,” Sid finally managed.

Tyler put his hand on his arm and Sid wished he had the awareness to enjoy it, “You look like you’re about to throw up. You sure you can walk the whole way?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Halfway back to his apartment and he regretted his attempt at bravado immensely. He had had a migraine or two in his first year, mostly stress induced in the middle of exams, so he knew what was coming next. He sat down on a low wall and put his head between his legs. Tyler’s cool hand settled on the back of his neck.

“Can you get up? I got us an Uber.”

Sid kept his eyes clamped shut the whole way. They made it to his apartment in hardly any time and Sid thanked whatever god there was that he hadn’t thrown up in the cab. He managed all the way up to his apartment, but as he hit the top step of the small house he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He sprinted the last few feet into their bathroom and threw up hideously for a good few minutes.

When he finally came around a bit from the heaving he could hear Flower’s voice in the living room.

“I think I know where he keeps them.”

There was some rustling about the apartment and Sid dragged himself to his feet. He wasn’t going to let the ignominy of having to be helped home get any worse by having either his housemate or his crush walk in on him stinking of vomit and pain. He flushed the toilet, rinsed out his mouth - all with his eyes closed - and staggered for the door. He bumped into Tyler right outside.

“Oh, hey. Flower said you had some migraine tablets lying around so…here.”

Tyler held up the packet and a glass of water. Sid really, really wanted to hug him.

“Thank you,” he said in a splintery voice that made him wince.

“Come on, you’d better lie down.”

He was pulled gently into his room. The blinds were down and the window was wide open. The evening breeze made his room wonderfully cool for once, and the darkness made it easier to find his bed. It was uncomfortable in his jeans but he crawled onto it fully dressed, downed the tablets and half the glass of water, then buried his face in the pillow. He wasn’t sure of much after that except the soft click of his bedroom door, some mumbling from somewhere in the apartment, then mercifully he went to sleep.

* * *

 

Sid woke up early the next morning. He tried to muster some energy together to be embarrassed about the day before, but he was still feeling too lousy. He went to relieve his bladder then fell back into bed and slept for another few hours. By the time he brought himself around and established the migraine had gone, leaving behind just a bit of nausea and hollowness in his stomach, he could hear Letang and Flower in the kitchen. When he rolled into the hallway he spied Geno propped up on the couch drinking coffee. He perked up when he saw Sid.

“Sid! Heard you were sick.”

Sid gave Flower and Tanger a half-hearted good morning wave and went to join Geno on the couch.

“Yeah, turns out my headache was a migraine.”

“Sorry Sid, would help you get home if I know.”

“It’s ok, I managed.”

“Tyler brought him back,” Flower said through the pass between the two rooms. It was like lobbing a grenade and leaving it to explode right on Sid’s lap. Geno’s face was even brighter now, and he leant forward with his coffee in his hands and his eyes wide.

“ _Tyler_?” he beamed, “Ah, we were right.”

“Right about what?”

“Tyler said he have to leave ‘cos of deadline but no, he obviously helped you home.”

“And?”

Geno batted his eyelashes and put his hand on his heart. Tanger made some sort of hideous attempt to make the sound of soppy violin music and Flower just laughed.

“Shut up. All of you. He just helped me get back, it’s not a big deal.”

“Oh come on. That little twink adores you.” Kris presented him with his own cup of coffee and Sid muttered ‘don’t call him that’ into his mug. Geno prodded him with his toe.

“It’s nice, Sid. Nice you have a crush. And he like you too. You should ask him out.”

Sid blinked at his friend, “Ask him out?”

“Well why not?”

Flower hissed as his fingers smarted against something hot on the hob. He slid the last crepe onto a stack and brought a plate of them into the living room. Tanger followed holding pots of jam and chocolate spread and even a little bowl of fruit.

“What’s with the pancakes?” Sid asked suspiciously. Flower smacked his hand with a spatula as he reached out to snag one.

“Ah-ah-ah, it’s a _crêpe_. Not a pancake. Say it right and you can have one. Come on, I know you did French at school.”

“Crêpe,” Sid, hideously over-pronouncing the French accent, but Flower relented. They all helped themselves to one and began to slather their preferences on top. The TV was on some European soccer game that Geno was streaming and half-watching, and Sid thought he might have got away with not having to answer his question. He was just about to open his mouth to ask what Geno had done to make him look so hungover, but Tanger beat him to it.

“So…Tyler.” He shoved a mouthful of Nutella slathered crêpe in and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s start with not knowing if he likes guys. Then let’s move on to him not being interested in me.”

“Oh he definitely some gay,” Geno said.

“How can you know that?”

“Sasha - Rads - told me. He said Tyler only been there one week and disappear all night. When he come home he smell like another cologne, in same clothes, and have boy’s name and number written on his hand.”

Sid shoved more crêpe in his mouth knowing his traitorous brain would want to say something to that.

“Plus Sasha sure he have guy over once. And Tyler tell him he not have lot of experience with girls, not since high school.”

“See,” Flower said, elbowing Sid painfully in the ribs, “He probably swings both ways. That means there’s a _chance_ he’s interested. And come on, he sat in the living room and waited to see if you were ok for hours yesterday.”

Sid swallowed without chewing enough and it was painful, but he managed to force out, “Really?”

“Yeah. He said he wanted to see if you were ok. I tried to tell him you’ve had migraines before, that you just sleep it away, but he insisted. He only left in the evening because he had a paper to do.”

All three of them looked at him meaningfully.

“Leave me alone,” he told them all. Maybe it was the exhaustion etched on his face after the migraine, or the fact that they were all all high on the taste of Flower’s crêpes, but they actually did leave him alone.

Their focus instead switched to Geno, and what he got up to last night. Apparently it involved a lot of drinking, meeting the college football team dressed as the Smurfs, a fated trip to a nightclub, and passing out on Nicke and Ovi’s bedroom floor.

“Woke up to sound of them making out.” Geno pulled a face like he’d tasted something sour, “So gross. Got up and came home to have hangover.”

Sid felt better after the crêpes and a shower. He settled himself down to do some work, knowing that essays wouldn’t write themselves, but found endless distractions to get in his way. Mostly to do with the memory of Tyler’s hand on his ribs, guiding him gently up the stairs to his apartment. The way the evening light had lit up the ends of his hair. His all-over body giggle that made Sid feel something stupidly close to longing. Sid sighed into the latest dusty tome he’d checked out of the library and went to make himself a coffee. He heard his phone ping from underneath his books but didn’t rush to find it. It was probably Geno sending him funny cat memes. The look of delight on that man’s face when Sid had finally got an iPhone was as yet unrivalled.

His phone went off again as Sid came back to his tiny desk in his room. He shoved the books aside and eventually found it amongst the mess. There were two messages from a number not saved in his contact book.

_Hey Sid its Tyler. Rads gave me ur number from Geno. Hope thats ok. Hows ur head?_

_Also, u wanna hang out today?_

Sid stared at the messages for a while. Flower appeared at his doorway and pointed a finger at him.

“Don’t ignore him.”

“Huh? How could you possibly know-?”

“Geno told me that Tyler had got your number via Rads. Tyler doesn’t strike me as a patient guy, I thought he’d message you eventually. Go on. Reply to him.”

Sid aimed his book on the French industrial revolution at Flower’s head.  

* * *

 

He and Tyler did hang out. They met at a cafe halfway between their two houses and Sid brought Tyler a coffee as a thank you for helping him home. Tyler laughed at the gesture, but not unkindly. He drank his coffee with way more sugar than necessary and his leg jigged under the table the whole time. It should have annoyed Sid, but no. He was too far gone.

They discovered they shared a mutual love of hockey and fishing, that both of them were older brothers to pretty feisty younger sisters, and that they’d both heard the rumour about the archeology professor and his class skeleton. They moved onto a second coffee. The cafe was emptying out, holding its breath in a lull before the evening crowd of zombified students fresh from a day at the library arrived. It made Tyler’s voice clearer, louder, and Sid found his own voice raising up too.

“Hey, thanks for this,” Tyler said, twisting yet another sugar packet into a little bow.

“For what? You were the one who got me home before I threw up all over the floor. I owe you for the Uber and-”

“No, no, put that away,” Tyler commanded when Sid reached for his wallet, “The coffees covered it. And dude, it’s fine anyway. I thought you were going to pass out, I just wanted you to get home OK.”

When he’d glared at Sid long enough for him to put his wallet back he picked up another sugar packet and started to shred it.

“Just… thanks for hanging out with me. I don’t know a whole lot of people here. Most of the people I have met are Russians. They’re great, and I love Rads, but they have their own little gang going on and…well, it’s been kind of hard to meet people outside of the house. So…thank you.”

Sid tried to hide what he knew was a shy smile by taking a sip of coffee, “You’re welcome.”

He decided to steer the conversation back to something he felt secure about, “Do you want to come along to a hockey practice? It’s not varsity, or anything, but there’s an intramural league the school puts together. They’ve expanded it a lot this year, so there’s going to be try-outs in a few weeks. We’re getting some practice games and sessions together, in case people feel a bit rusty.”

Tyler beamed, “Yeah, man. That’d be awesome.”

“You got gear with you?”

“What kind of self respecting Canadian would I be if I didn’t go to college ready to play hockey?”

Sid wasn’t proud of the honking little laugh he let out at that.

“Send me the details,” Tyler said, stacking their empty mugs up, “Now you’ve got my number.”

Sid really wished that Tyler didn’t talk like he was flirting all the time. It would be nice to think that it was just for him, but he’d heard Tyler talk to Geno, to Rads, his housemates, even Ovi. Tyler spoke to everyone like they were about to head off into the sunset for a good time together, like they were the only people in the world. Sid couldn’t let that fog his judgement.

They walked and talked as far as they could, then went their separate ways, promising to meet up the following afternoon for the practice.

Sid found himself floating the rest of the way home. He remained ensconced in his bedroom the rest of the night, eating and working and definitely not thinking about Tyler’s smile.

* * *

 

Sid thought combining his new crush with hockey would be a good idea. Hockey always centred Sid, brought everything back into focus and let a little bit of the consistent anxiety about life and school go free. He loved the noises, the smells, the feeling of a team working together. In day to day life he would die rather than have a load of sweaty people throw themselves on him in delight, but in hockey he’d gladly be mauled by them all if they’d just scored a goal. Flower was next to him, padded up to his eyeballs and chirping anyone within 6 feet of him. Everyone was game in the locker room.

“So where’s your boyfriend?” he asked. Sid nearly took a glove to the face as Flower flexed a strap a little tighter.

“He’s not my boyfriend. And…wait, there he is.”

Tyler walked into the locker room laden with gear and with Rads in tow. Sid wasn’t surprised, Geno had mentioned that he’d finally got more of the Russians interested in hockey this year. They were apparently all hesitant to take it up in Canada what with the smaller ice surface and a slightly different game mentality, but it was clear this year Geno had got through to a few more.

Tyler saw Sid and Sid gave him a wave. He immediately wanted the ground to swallow him up.

“Smooth,” Tanger said to Sid’s left. Sid lifted up his stick and ‘accidentally’ hit Tanger in the cheek with it.

This was going to be good, Sid thought. Hockey made everything better.

 

It was a disaster. Not the hockey, the hockey was excellent. They had a fantastic pool of talent to draw from. Two teams would be made up out of the try outs in a fortnight’s time, split between A and B. The two other campuses would field two teams each as well, meaning there were plenty of games ahead. That was amazing. Sid’s personal life, however, felt like it was crashing and burning. Which was impressive, given that it was all happening out on the ice. He was glad his visor was there, doing something to hide any feelings that might be showing.

It was stupid, really. He shouldn’t be so upset. But the thing was, Tyler would not stop harping on about Jamie Benn.

_His hockey is amazing._

_Look at him go._

_It’s surprising how fast he is._

_He’s so big, surely he should be a defenseman._

_But no, he’s such a good goal scorer._

_Look at the way he carries the puck. It’s sweet._

“Don’t you think, Sid?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sid forced out, doing a grin with a lot more teeth than feeling. He kept his head pointed down to the ice, waiting for his turn on the drill.

Jamie. Fucking. Benn. Sid liked the guy, he really did, but right now he wanted him to disappear off the face of the earth. He felt guilty about that thought the minute Jamie skated up behind him and gave him a clap on the shoulder.

“Hey, nice to see you Cap.”

“Yeah, you too Jamie. How was your summer?”

“Good. Nothing special, you know, but it was fun.”

“How’s Jordie?”

“Got a job in the big city now.”

Jamie pulled off his glove and rearranged his helmet strap.

“Oh and hey, Nate’s here.”

Sid spun around on the spot to take a look around.

“What? I thought he was doing his year abroad.”

“Backed out last minute. You’ll have to talk to him about it. He’s…er, there.” Jamie pointed down the ice. Sid headed off for the next part of the drill and couldn’t help but grin as he buried the puck to the sound of Flower calling him a fuckface. He caught sight of Nate dithering at the back of the opposing line and pointed a gloved finger at him. He could see Nate’s blush all the way across the ice. Nate awkwardly raised a hand in acknowledgement and went back to watching the drill.

Sid wasn’t paying attention and nearly crashed into Tyler.

“Shit, sorry. Didn’t see you.”

“Eyes on the ice, Crosby,” Tyler said. He sounded like he was trying to chirp, but something in his voice fell short. Sid didn’t want to hear any more about Jamie Benn, so he hot footed to get some water and to chat to some of the other guys he’d played hockey with over the last few years. They all wanted to know who Tyler was, and marked down the names of a few of the other new guys. It was up to the coaches as to who’d get picked, but it was only intramural hockey - everything was pretty community led.

It was good to feel the burn in his lungs and the cool slice of the ice again. By the time Sid had showered and dressed he’d mostly pushed thoughts of Tyler admiring Jamie’s play to the back of his mind. Then Tyler was there, right in front of him, swinging his stick over his head and grinning with that curl of a tongue. He wasn’t even half stripped out of his gear yet. His sweaty hair sticking everywhere did things to Sid’s insides.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey.”

“So I thought maybe we could-”

The breath got punched out of Sid’s lungs by the huge hit of a hand between his shoulder blades.

“Geez, Nate.”

“How you doing?”

Nate looked exactly the same as he had done when Sid last saw him, three weeks before Sid headed off for his next year of college. Except now that he looked a little embarrassed.

“I’m good, yeah. You know you’re not supposed to be here, right?”

Nate rubbed the back of his head, “Er, yeah, I gotta catch you up on some stuff.” He noticed Tyler, and Sid felt like a dick.

“Oh, sorry. Tyler, this is Nate, he’s a friend from back home and, well, obviously he plays hockey too. Nate this is Tyler.”

Sid stopped short after that. How was he supposed to describe Tyler? The guy he thought was gorgeous? The friend of a friend of a friend?

Tyler and Nate shook hands. They talked a little about the practice, but Sid could feel the awkwardness rising up.

“So, er, I’ve got to go and get changed. I’ll see you guys later,” Tyler said eventually, not giving them much time to respond. Sid was going to call after him to ask if he wanted to meet up later, feeling emboldened by the adrenaline coursing through him post-practice, but he saw where Tyler was heading. Straight over to Jamie. Fine. That was…fine.

“You want to get some lunch and catch up?” Nate asked, obliviously.

“Sure.”

They had lunch somewhere cheap but satisfying. Nate admitted his nerves had got the better of him and he’d backed out of his year abroad. Sid wasn’t totally surprised if he was honest. Every time he’d talked about the France thing during the summer he’d looked nauseous and damp-eyed. Sid was just glad to see Nate smiling sincerely again.

“How do you know that Tyler guy?” Nate asked, once they’d exhausted the topics of hockey, Nate’s non-move to France, and gossip from back home.

Sid shoved a few French fries in his mouth.

“Through Geno and his Russian friends.”

“He’s Russian?”

“No, no, he’s Canadian. But he ended up in a house with a load of them. That’s how I met him.”

Nate slurped his milkshake, set the glass down and gave Sid a long look. Eventually he said: “That’s nice. So are you guys…”

“No. I mean, he’s a nice guy but I don’t think….no.”

“Right,” Nate said, meaningfully.

“What’s that?”

“It’s just that you couldn’t take your eyes off him at practice.” Nate pointed his fork at Sid, “Not his ass, I noticed. Guess you’ve got enough of your own to go around.”

Sid nearly choked on his fries with horrified laughter, “Fuck you! I wasn’t staring. And stop talking about my ass, you’re obsessed.”

“Hey, I’m not the only one. The minute you turn around half the campus turns their head to take a look.”

Sid knew he was red from his collarbone to his ears. If it was anyone else he’d tell them very seriously to shut the fuck up - because he actually hated the comments about his ass - but it was Nate. Nate was one of the select few allowed to chirp him about absolutely anything.

“So, no you and Tyler then.”

“No.”

“You want there to be?”

“I mean…” Sid sighed into his burger, “Yeah. I guess. But I’m…busy, and he’s…I don’t think we’re very similar, you know? I’m not sure if he really wants to hang out with me or if it’s because he’s not got a lot guys to hang out with.”

Nate shrugged his huge shoulders, “People don’t have to be identical to date each other. You should go for it. He’s hot. In a skinny, fuck-boy kind of way.”

“I know that’s the way he looks but he’s not really like that. Well, not in any way that makes it bad.”

“When you were speaking to him earlier you looked pretty happy. Sorry, shouldn’t have dragged you away for lunch. I thought you guys were already pretty deep into flirting and he could spare you for a bit.”

“No, it’s fine. We’re not anything. It’s ok.”

Sid thought long and hard before he said the next bit, but he really did feel comfortable confiding in Nate.

“Also, I spent the whole practice staring at him mostly because _he_ couldn’t stop staring at Jamie.”

“Benn?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. You think he likes Jamie?”

Sid found it very hard to swallow his next mouthful of burger.

“Maybe.”

“Well if he does then he’s going to be disappointed. Jamie got a girlfriend over the summer. You know Tyson?”

Of course Sid knew Tyson. Once Nate stepped foot onto campus he and Tyson became one another’s shadows. Tyson probably burst into tears of joy when he heard Nate wasn’t going abroad.

“He knows Jamie from back home, they’re from the same area. They hung out a bit in the break and he says Jamie’s dating a girl.”

That didn’t make Sid feel any better. Just because the object of a person’s affection had a partner didn’t make the crush any less significant.

He chose to wind up the conversation and Nate, mercifully, let it go. They split the bill and parted ways, promising to catch up more regularly now that Nate would be remaining on the continent. Sid went home to think more about world history than his stupid crush on a second year, and maybe have a hot shower and an early night.

* * *

  


“The fuck?”

Sid’s entire apartment was filled with people. He wrestled himself and his hockey gear through the crowds and dumped them behind the L of the couch, right under where the roof sloped into the eaves. Geno and Flower’s bags were thrown there too, releasing the smell of unwashed clothes and sweat. Someone nearly knocked him over head first.

“Sorry!” a random girl he didn’t know said breezily, lifting herself over the back of the couch and settling down between two guys he also didn’t know.  Sid fought his way through to the kitchen and found Flower and Tanger directing a line of shots.

“What the hell?” Sid shouted in Kris’s ear. The music wasn’t too loud but sheer amount of people talking and laughing that made it hard to hear.

“Oh, sorry, we thought you’d be out longer. We were going to message you.”

“Why are we having a _party_?”

“It’s just a mixer,” Flower said placatingly, pushing booze into Sid’s hand, “And it was supposed to be at Tanger’s but their house is under quarantine. Nealer got measles.”

“Is that why he wasn’t at practice?” Sid asked, conspicuously leaning away from Tanger, “And shouldn’t you be under quarantine too?”

“I had the shot when I was a kid, I’m not contagious. Come on, lighten up, have a drink.”

“Why did no-one tell me this was happening?”

“It wasn’t official. It’s just everyone who wants to try out, and the girls teams too. It just happened.”

Sid doubted that very much. Flower had the same look on his face as when Sid asked where the last slices of his fancy sourdough and rye bread had gone.

“It’s just until the bars open, then we’ll head out.”

“I’m not coming out,” Sid said, forcibly. Flower patted him on the cheek and disappeared into the apartment. Sid sighed and threw back his drink. Whatever. He’d drink some free booze until they all disappeared to the bars, or until their neighbours reported them for excessive noise. Then he’d have a shower, get into bed, do some of his reading, and fall asleep watching Netflix.

He loosened up as the party went on, though felt conscious in his gross, hole-marked Nike t-shirt and hair still wet from his post-practice shower. It was actually nice to speak to some of the people he’d played hockey with the last few years, especially the ones who had taken a year out and were back in the mix. He saw Nate again, who had apparently had enough time to go back, have a proper shower and get dressed before he was told about the party. Tyson was at his elbow, grinning up at a huge guy Sid had noticed at practice. He was painfully attractive, over six foot and built like a true hockey player, and Tyson Barrie was staring at him like he’d hung the moon. Sid was about to go over and say hello to Nate again when Tyler materialised in front of him.

Tyler gave him a soft hey and he knocked their plastic cups together. Sid remembered the look Tyler had given Jamie as he flipped a puck right through Flower’s glove and his stomach turned. Jamie was in the apartment chatting to Tyson and Nate, a beer in one hand and his just-washed hair styled and a t-shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. Damn him.

Still, Tyler leant his back against the wall next to Sid and got him chatting. That was how they spent the rest of the night: stuck in their little corner of the apartment with barely enough space between them for their drinks. Sid watched the way Tyler’s mouth moved, the way his body wriggled and jerked as he laughed and told stories. Sid thought he could handle this, being friends. He might not be able to reach over and kiss him, grab his narrow hips and feel the meat of his muscles in his fingers, but at least he got to stand this close to Tyler and listen to his stupid stories.

Eventually the apartment emptied out as people their way out to bars and clubs in large groups. Rads, Val and a guy named Mark had come to join them in their corner, and suddenly Jamie was there too.

“You coming out?” Tyler asked, low enough for the others not to hear. He felt warm plastered against Sid’s arm. His eyes were sparkling. Sid was much too old to be feeling this gooey over another guy’s eyes.

“Erm, no it’s ok. You guys go.”

“You sure?”

As much as Sid would love to spend more time with Tyler he really wanted his bed, his Netflix account, and to get a bit of space. Suddenly the close proximity to Tyler made him feel breathless.

“No I’m good. I’ve got a load of work to do.”

“It’s a Saturday night! Can’t leave you up here on your own working.”

“Seriously, Tyler, it’s fine. You go and have fun.”

They were one of the last groups to go. Sid watched Jamie and Tyler head out laughing about something and thought ‘fuck’. He made sure the door was locked behind them and then threw himself onto his bed. He groaned a long, painful ‘ugggghhh’ into his pillow.

* * *

  


Sid woke up with a start, but wasn’t sure why. He lay in the dark with his face smushed against his pillow on his barely-three-quarter sized bed, and waited for inspiration to come to him. Was it the front door? He wasn’t aware of Flower or Geno returning after the hockey mixer, but maybe they had been quiet for once. It was still dark outside, though there was a faint blue tint to the sky outside his window. He rolled over and his bedside clock told him it was 5:01.

He was on the cusp of going back to sleep when his phone rang. He groped on the nightstand and when he found his phone the screen told him he had 4 missed calls. His volume was turned so far down he wasn’t surprised he had missed them. He peered blearily at the name of the incoming call and picked up.

“Tyler?”

Tyler was already halfway through a sentence when Sid spoke, “…and it’s just like fuck - oops. Shit. Ow that hurt.”

“Tyler? Are you ok?”

It wasn’t hard to work out that Tyler was drunk. There was a lot of scratching static over the phone, as though Tyler was rubbing the phone in his hair, then suddenly his voice came back over the line.

“Sid? Sid! Hey. Sid. I knew I called you.”

“Are you ok?” Sid blinked at the ceiling with one eye open and scrubbed a hand over his face, “Are you guys still out? What’s going on?”

“No, no. Think…think they went home.”

“Are you on your own?”

“Yeah,” there was a long pause and then a thud, and Tyler let out an ‘oof’.

“Tyler?”

“I’m ok. You have to come find me Sid.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know where I am. And I’m lost. And everyone went home and they fucking _left_ me and Rads isn’t answering his phone. I think I called him. Then I thought…Sid you have to come find me.”

Sid sat up and started to grab at a pair of sweats thrown over the back of his desk chair.

“Ok, do you know where you are?”

“No. Lost. Like…I’m lost, and I need you to come find me. Sid?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come find me? It’s fucking freezing.”

Sid sighed as he stuck a leg into his pants. Tyler didn’t sound panicked or anything - just teary and very, very drunk - but Sid certainly felt it. How the hell was he going to find Tyler in the whole goddamn campus? That was even if he was on campus, and hadn’t gone to a bar downtown. He went to the door of Flower’s room and knocked, but there was no answer.

“Give me two minutes ok? I’ll come find you. Just sit down. Don’t wander into traffic or anything. Take a look around and try to work out where you might be.”

Tyler just hung up. Sid growled into the darkness of his bedroom and snagged his keys off his desk. He rang Fleury as he was forcing his shoes on.

“Sid? Hey, what’s wrong?” He sounded like he had been fast asleep.

“Shit, sorry Flower, are you at Vero’s?”

“Yeah, I came back here to sleep. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, but Tyler just rang me. He sounds completely wasted and he’s lost. Do you know where he might be?”

Flower took a moment to think, the rustling of the bedsheets the only sound over the phone, “Er…we were at Bernie’s. But he left then. He said he was heading home. That was…like, two o’clock. What time is it now?”

“Five.”

“Fuck. Well I don’t know where he went in those three hours, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I guess if he was down at Bernie’s I know roughly where to look.”

“You never know Sid, he could have met other people and gone anywhere. If he got in an Uber he could be miles away.”

“I know but I’ve got to try. He sounds way too drunk to be sat on the sidewalk in the cold.”

“OK. Well let me know, alright? I can text a few of the others but I don’t know who will be awake.”

Sid thanked Flower for the help and hung up. He staggered out of the front door and barrelled into Geno on the landing.

“Whoa. Sid. You Ok?” Geno held him by the shoulders and peered around him. “House on fire?”

“Geno, you don’t know where Tyler went after Bernie’s do you?”

“Er…he say he go home. Rads stay with me.”

“What about Jamie, did he stay?”

“No, he left about midnight, just small group at the end. Is Tyler ok?”

“He rang me and he’s totally lost. And seriously drunk.”

Sid peered down the stairs and decided he had to still be asleep and dreaming, because that could not be Alexander Ovechkin hunched on their building’s stairs.

“What is he doing here?”

“Oh, he didn’t want to go home drunk, Nicke get mad at him last time. So he come stay here.”

Sid zipped his coat up and gestured down the stairs, “You can both be useful and come help me find Tyler then.”

That was how Sid ended up marching the streets of campus near the bar district with the two inebriated Russians in tow. Sid called Tyler as they were walking and got the lowdown on where he was. There were trees, and houses, and he could see a red door. That was it.

Sid called him back for more information and a very American sounding guy answered the call with “Er, hey.”

“Hello?”

“Hey, er, the guy who this phone belongs to is kind of passed out on the sidewalk.”

“Oh shit. I’m looking for him, where is he?”

“Maple Drive, round by the grocery store. I’ll wait with him.”

“Is he ok?”

“I think so, he’s just not really talking.”

“We’ll be five minutes.”

They jogged the rest of the way, Ovi complaining the whole time that Sid would never do anything as nice as this for _him_. Sid ignored him, tense and anxious until he rounded the corner and finally spotted Tyler. A guy in a duffel coat was standing over him.

“Thank you,” Geno told him as Sid crouched down in front of Tyler.

“No, it’s ok. I was on my way to work and he was just sat here. He looks in a pretty bad state.”

Sid got Tyler sitting upright. He listed dangerously so Sid held him firmly by both arms and gave him a little shake.

“Hey, Tyler. You alright?”

Tyler was definitely beyond drunk and into completely wasted territory. He had a nasty case of road rash on the palms of his hands, and he smelt like a brewery. His eyes were pretty glazed over from the drink but he focussed on Sid when he said his name a few more times.

Sid had piled on one too many coats as he left, so he peeled off the top layer and pulled it over Tyler’s shoulders. He didn’t fail to notice the sleeve tattoos that stood out starkly on his skin underneath the streetlight. He’d never seen him in short sleeves before.

He cupped Tyler’s cold cheek and gave him a bit of a shake.

“You with me?”

“Hey Sid. Why are you here?”

“You called me, remember?”

“No. Shit. Did I? I’m sorry. You’re amazing,” Tyler slurred. He wouldn’t remember a single word of this in the morning.

“It’s ok. You alright?”

“I’m good. It’s ok, I can get home I think.”

It appeared the pain from his hands hadn’t quite penetrated the drunken fog, nor the situation he was in.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to my place.”

Sid didn’t fancy banging on the door of Rads’ house to be let in, and it didn’t seem like Tyler had a whole lot in his pockets. Sid hoped his wallet and keys were in a jacket pocket hung in some bar somewhere and they could find them in the morning.

“Up, up.”

Sid hauled Tyler to his feet and Geno helped to steady him. The Good Samaritan was gone, and Ovi was whistling tunelessly.

“You ok little Canadian?” Ovi asked him, patting Tyler on the head. Tyler began to topple over backwards, so Geno and Sid took an arm each and frogmarched him down the road. Ovi kicked along at the back, holding Tyler’s phone in his hand.

At home Sid thanked the two Russians and urged them to go bed.

“Call if you need,” Geno said meaningfully, boxing Sid into their tiny kitchen at the doorway.

“I will.”

“Seriously, Sid.”

“I know, thanks Geno.”

In the living room Ovi was trying to get Tyler to do the alphabet backwards. Sid wasn’t sure that’d be Tyler’s strong point even when sober. Geno detached Tyler from Ovi’s grip and deposited him in Sid’s arms.

“We go to bed,” he said firmly and dragged Ovechkin into his room.

“Hi Sid,” Tyler slurred. He was crumpled against Sid’s side and looking up at him through his lashes. His dimples were out in full force.

“Hi Tyler,” Sid said gently, “Fun night?”

“Hmmmm. Fun. I made some new friends.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. This city is awesome. Screw Boston.”

Sid hooked an arm up under Tyler’s shoulders and manoeuvred him the last few feet to his bedroom.

“Screw Boston,” Tyler said once more time with finality before Sid guided Tyler down onto his mattress and let him flop down onto his pillow. Sid put a trashcan within lunging distance and wriggled off Tyler’s shoes. Tyler was asleep within seconds, dead to the world like only a drunk person could be. Sid sat by his side for an hour, too tired to think about sleeping. When the exhaustion hit him, he left his bedroom door open and went to sleep on the couch under a blanket, and dreamt he was running around the whole city trying to find Tyler in the snow.

* * *

  


“I’m so sorry,” Tyler croaked. He was sat on the edge of Sid’s bed with his head in his hands. He’d spent a good hour throwing up in their bathroom, and he couldn’t even look Sid in the eye. Sid sighed and sat on his desk chair.

“I keep telling you it’s OK.”

“It’s not, though, is it?! I can’t believe I called you and then…threw up in your bathroom for like…oh _god_.”

Sid didn’t know what else to do so he reached forward and put his hand on Tyler’s knee. He tried not to acknowledge the little thrill it gave him. “Tyler. It’s OK. I promise. I’m glad you called me. Better than you sitting in the cold all night.”

“I’m sorry though, still. I’m so sorry.”

“Seriously Tyler, leave it. It’s OK.”

When Tyler looked up from the floor and peeked through his fingers, Sid made sure to give him a grin.

“It’s alright.”

“I’m still embarrassed.”

Sid blew on his coffee and cupped it in his hands, “Don’t be. We’ve all done stupid stuff when we’re drunk.”

“If that was the only time I’d been drunk, that might make me feel a bit better,” Tyler said ruefully. He plucked the coffee Sid had made for him off the bedside cabinet and sipped it blissfully.

“How is your coffee so nice?”

“Tanger works at that hipster coffee place in town. He gets us free coffee in payment for spending so much time here.”

There was a knock at the door and Geno leant in.

“Delivery.” 

He held out a hand and a black jacket was hooked over one finger.

“Thank god,” Tyler groaned, “Thank you, thank you.”

He caught it as Geno tossed it his way and collapsed in relief as he pulled out his wallet and his keys.

“Oh _yes_. Thank you, Geno, where did you get it?”

“Call friend who work at bar we were at before Bernie’s. He noticed it during clean up, and put it in the back. He brought it over since he was in our neighbourhood.”

“I guess no-one else saw it.”

“Pretty lucky,” Geno said with a raise of his eyebrows as he went back into the hallway. There was a thump and a lot of hissing in Russian and then Ovechkin sauntered in.

“Oh god my eyes,” Sid said, slapping a hand over his face.

“Morning,” Ovi beamed at them both. “How is the little Canadian feeling?”

He was wearing nothing but a pair of hideous, silver-blue compression shorts that showed pretty much everything Alexander Ovechkin had to offer. Tyler made a small retching noise at the back of his throat and just about managed to pass it off as clearing his throat.

“I’m…fine. Thanks, Ovi.”

Geno stood behind his old friend looking forlorn.

“Sasha, come have breakfast.”

“Yes, in a minute. I want to see if Segs survived the night. Bad hangover? Coffee help. You drank a lot, you know. I’m impressed. Most Canadians I know are light weights.”

Sid ignored the blatant look in his direction and stood up.

“If we all get out of my room I will make everyone pancakes. But you have to get out, now.”

They all did as they were told, Tyler still shuffling with his head down. Sid stopped him just as he got to the threshold and held up a pair of his old sweats and a Canadiens shirt from when he was a teenager.

“Hey, take these, if you want to get out of those clothes and have a shower. The pancakes should be ready then.”

Tyler looked down at the clothes, then up at Sid. Sid wanted to kiss the spot where his eyelashes tickled below his eyes.

“Sid…”

“Just take them and jump in the shower, before Flower comes home. He takes ages in there. There’s a dark blue towel in the cupboard by the sink, it’s clean.”

Tyler swallowed back whatever else he wanted to say and thanked him. Sid put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed once, and headed into their tiny kitchen. As the bathroom door lock clicked Sid dragged the flour out of the cupboard and mentally berated himself as he sourced the eggs from the fridge. He was in so fucking deep, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He was just about to start cooking when there was a knock at the front door. Sid watched through the pass as Geno strode over and opened up the door with a snap of the Yale lock.

Nicky’s voice was unmistakable, “Morning. I’m here to collect my boyfriend.”

“Nicke!” Ovi cheered from the couch, arms in the air. Nicke toed off his shoes in the hallway and made his way in. He gave Sid a nod and a small smile, “Sorry. Hope he wasn’t too loud last night.”

“No, no. It was fine, in the end.”

Nicke looked over at where Ovi was slouched over the cushions and there was a long, steely pause.

“What are you wearing?” he asked eventually.

“Oh, Zhenya had them in his cupboard. Think they are mine from last year. Good job, ‘cos Zhenya clothes are too small. He’s got long legs and his ass is too big.”

Nicke put a hand on Ovi’s shoulder and leant over the back of the couch to kiss his hair, “They’re still hideous.”

He pulled off his hoodie and dropped it on his boyfriend’s lap, “Put that on.”

“Do you want pancakes, Nicke?” Sid called from the kitchen, “I’m making them for a crowd.”

Nicklas relented to staying for pancakes, but insisted on helping. He was at the hob prodding the bubbling batter in the pan when Tyler emerged from the bathroom in Sid’s borrowed clothes. Nicke offered Sid a raised eyebrow and Sid turned away with a violent blush.

“Feel better?”

Tyler still looked rough as hell, but at least he was vertical. The sweats were way too big on Tyler’s ass and hips, which made Sid think all kinds of X rated things. When he lifted a hand to rub at his damp hair it lifted the shirt and showed the deep grooves of his hip muscles pointing down to underneath the elastic band of the sweats. Sid went hot from his scalp to his toes and did his best to smile and nod at Tyler’s response.

He could feel Nicke’s intense stare like pinpricks on the back of his neck.

“Much better, thanks. Pancakes smell amazing.”

Sid topped up coffees and he and Nicke served up the pancakes. They all ate on the couch watching an episode of House Hunters International and the only sound was the TV and their forks against the plates.

Tyler managed to peel himself off the couch later in the afternoon - promising to return Sid’s clothes the next day - and Nicke and Ovi followed not long after. They left the housemates napping on the couch dozily.

“So that was interesting. Last night.”

“Thanks for coming to help me, Geno.”

“He’s pretty but he’s stupid. You still like him? Even after last night?”

“Well…yeah. I think he’s a nice guy. Last night didn’t change that.”

“Think you prefer someone bit more serious. Who like to study and ready history books.”

Sid beamed a balled up piece of paper off Geno’s head.

“I don’t just have to like people who are exactly like me.” Sid would have to thank Nate for reminding him of that the other day. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can’t ask him out. I don’t need that humiliation.”

“Why humiliation?”

“Have you _seen_ him?”

“Yeah he hot Sid, but you’re not bad yourself. He could probably make friends easy, and he still want to hang out with you. _All_ of the party he stood in the corner and talk to you. And he liked your hockey, I saw him watching you at the practice.”

Sid stood up and stepped over the back of the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“Just a shower and a nap.”

He did in fact have a shower and a nap, but Sid really wasn’t proud of what images he conjured up of Tyler and his tattoos and the slither of abs he saw to make the shower and the nap much more fun.

* * *

 

Life fell into a routine in the next few weeks. Hockey practice ahead of the try-outs, studying, hanging out in the apartment - lather, rinse, repeat. It was the same routine as every other year Sid had had at college, but this year Tyler had slipped right into it and Sid wasn’t even sure how. He kept waiting for the other foot to drop - Tyler was this hot, sociable second year who was quick to laugh, beautiful on the ice, and could have set the campus on fire with his smile and the flash of his dimples. Yet he chose to hang around with Sid.

The try-outs were on a Thursday evening, but the team rosters wouldn’t be posted until the Sunday. Flower organised a group of them to go out afterwards and that was how Sid found himself jammed between Tyler and Nate in a booth at a student bar. The tables were sticky and the lighting atrocious, but the music wasn’t too loud and the beer was cheap enough that the whole table groaned under the weight of the glasses and jugs scattered across it. Sid pointedly ignored Flower across the table mouthing shit at him about Tyler and drank more of his beer.

“So go on captain, who do you think made the team?” Tyler asked Sid in his ear. He was wearing a black short sleeved shirt that showed off a lot of collarbone and arm, and he was very hot against Sid’s side. He was wearing a snapback in green and it brought out the colour of his eyes. It was all very distracting.

“I told you, I can’t tell you! I don’t know. And I don’t even know if I’ll be captain this year.”

“Of course you will be. You were, like, born to be captain.” Tyler beamed at him and chinked their glasses together, “Seriously, if I get to play with you on the team it’d be awesome. Same line? Even better.”

Sid felt someone kicking his foot frantically. He didn’t bother looking up, he knew it was Flower lip-reading and having an aneurysm on the other side of the table.

“That would be awesome,” Sid chimed, wishing he wasn’t quite so warm.

“Your hockey is _beautiful_ man, you really should be doing more than just intramural games.”

Sid hoped his blush looked like heat from the sweaty room they were packed into, “I could have done, I guess.”

Tyler looked back at him, curious, his eyelids lowered a little and chin tilted down a little so that their faces were close together. Sid wouldn’t have to do much to kiss him. Just an inch or so. Use the hand spread across the back of the booth seat to cup the back of Tyler’s head, feel what those curls were like between his fingers.

Instead, Sid swallowed some more beer and shrugged, “Yeah, I went to Shattuck St Mary’s for a couple of years, for my hockey. Then I just…I hated the pressure. I went home one holiday and all my Dad could talk about was the tapes he’d seen of my games and my practices, and he’d gone and got a list of all the stuff I needed to improve from my coaches. He didn’t ask me about my friends, or my studies, or if I was happy. And I wasn’t. I couldn’t sleep at night because I was so stressed about games, and if I thought I did something wrong in a game I couldn’t forgive myself. I could see it happening for the rest of my life, my Dad wanted me to compete and be the best, not just ‘good’. It ruined it for me. We had a big fight and I told my parents I wanted to go back to school in Cole Harbour. I still played hockey, but just in junior leagues around my hometown. My Dad was furious. He still won’t talk to me about it. He said I threw away my life, that I’ll regret it.”

Tyler was watching his face carefully, eyes right on his, “Do you?”

“No. I mean, I sometimes wonder ‘what if’. But there’s not a lot of point doing that, is there? I love playing hockey but I don’t need to do it to be the best, I can just enjoy it. And this way I get to do my life the way I wanted, not the way my Dad wanted.”

“Makes sense,” Tyler said, “And you’re still amazing at it. Even without all the special training.”

Despite the flagrant complimenting Sid felt like conversations about his Dad were a great way to kill the general mood and his own buzz, so he changed the subject, “How’s Marshall doing?”

The mention of Tyler’s dog set them off on a long conversation about the big brown lab that Tyler missed so much, dogs in general, and an argument about cats.

By the end of the night Sid was very drunk. In a moment of inebriated madness he grabbed Tyler’s arm and said, “What do these mean?” He stroked his fingers down Tyler’s biceps, tracing the patterns, and even though a small, clear part of his conscience told him to stop that immediately, the rest of him drowned it out with a hammering heart and quivering muscles.

Tyler beamed at him, “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

  


“Did you hear Tyler is sick?”  
  
“Huh?” Sid lifted his head and a pen lid he’d been nervously chewing fell from his mouth. Geno dropped his English homework onto their tiny coffee table and started to sift through it, a little smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“Val told me. Since our night out, he’s been ill.”  
  
Sid automatically looked down at his phone. He and Tyler had been texting pretty much nonstop since that night. He had mentioned a hangover on the first morning, but nothing else in the following three days. They hadn’t had a chance to meet up, what with Sid slammed with seminar work and no hockey practice until the following day.  

“He’s probably just still hungover,” Letang said, emerging from the kitchen, “He was _wasted_ the night we went out.”  
  
Sid tried to remember what happened that night, but it was all hazy after the third round of drinks. The shots were definitely a bad idea, but Tyler was giggling and dancing and Sid could feel the hot prints of his hands all over his arms and back, and, well...from what he could remember, lowering his own inhibitions through alcohol had been a good idea.

He remembered Geno pouring him into his bed at some time in the early hours, and he wasn’t surprised to hear the party had raged long after he’d left.

“Really?”  
  
“You don’t remember? He danced on the bar at one point, with whats-his-face...the new guy. Gabe. Oh, and Tyson.”  
  
“I don’t remember that bit.”  
  
“After Geno took you home we were out for a few more hours and he just kept drinking. I’m surprised he’s not dead.”

Kris held out a packet of cookies and Sid took one absently.

“Three days is a long time to have a hangover, though. Maybe he got the stomach flu that’s going around.”

Sid munched on his cookie and pondered this sadly. Why hadn’t Tyler told him he was sick? They updated each other on most things. Sid had never been an avid texter but Tyler’s enthusiasm for constant updates on his day was contagious.

“He didn’t tell me he was sick,” Sid said. He knew it was a mistake the second it came out of his mouth. His friends all perked up and exchanged a series of delighted and frightening looks.

“What, so you guys talk to each other a lot?”

Sid shrugged and pretended to be interested in what his book was telling him, “We text a bit, I guess.”  
  
“A bit?”  
  
“Ok, I text a bit. Tyler texts a lot.”

All three of his friends ‘oohed’ suggestively.

“Stop it. He does it with all his friends.”

Flower put down his mug of his coffee and forced Sid to look at him. He had a serious, unnerving stare, “Are you going to do anything about this massive Tyler crush? The one that astronauts can see from space?”  
  
This question just made Sid sad.

“No, I’m not. He...he hasn’t said anything to me, so he clearly isn’t interested.”

All three of them buried their face in their hands, “Sid you are so frustrating! Just _say_ something to him. He spends all his time with you, and when not physically with you he’s texting you.”  
  
“I walked into your room last week and he was on the floor with his shirt off touching his abs.”  
  
“He was working out something for his class!”

“It’s what my cat does when she wants belly rubs! He was showing off to you.”

“At the first mixer we had here, he had you cornered all night talking to you, practically painted against you.”  
  
“And at the last party you were both all over each other. You were feeling his arms asking about his tattoos and he was practically purring. You _danced_ that night, Sid, _danced_. Do you know what an effort it takes your best friends to get you to join the dance floor? Segs asks once and bats his eyelashes and you were out there.”  
  
Sid scowled, “I don’t remember dancing.”  
  
“Well there was. You danced, with him.”

Sid looked at his three friends glaring at him and felt himself wilt, “But...he hasn’t said anything.”

Flower rubbed his eyes and sighed, “I know. It’s weird, I thought he’d be the kind of guy to just make a move. But just because he hasn’t doesn’t mean he isn’t clearly crazy about you. Just think about it, Sid. Please.”

 

* * *

 

Sid stood in the shadow of the house in front of him and told himself to get it together. This didn’t have to be weird if he didn’t make it. People brought food to their sick friends all the time. Geno had made Sid as many grilled cheeses as he wanted last year after a bout of food poisoning. Flower had to be basically forced not to make crêpes for anyone feeling under the weather.

This was normal, Sid told himself.

People brought chicken soup to their object of affection and use it as an excuse to ask them out all the time.

Sid couldn’t even pretend to hide his rabbiting heart rate as he finally made his sweaty hand knock on the door. Val opened the door in a pair of basketball shorts and an oversized shirt, barefoot and sleepy.

“Oh. Hey, Sid.”

“Hi Val. I’m here to see Tyler.”

Val blinked at him for the moment and then came back to himself.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Come in.”

Sid squeezed himself into the hallway with Val and shut the door behind him. The hallway was strewn with what looked like twenty pairs of shoes and smelt like a hockey locker room. It was gloomy inside, the same way all of these old town houses were, with the only light afforded to them by the mottled pane of glass over the door. A TV was on in what Sid assumed was the living room - it sounded like a Russian version of _The Price is Right_ \- and a waft of warm, enveloping cooking smells wafted towards them.

“His room top of stairs, on left,” Val told him, pointing a finger.

Sid toed off his shoes politely and pushed them to the side before he went up, thanking Val as the Russian disappeared back into the living room with a smile on his face Sid couldn’t read.

Sid climbed the stairs and stopped in front of the slightly wonky door Val had pointed to. He knocked before he lost his nerve.

“Yeah?” Tyler’s voice wavered through the door.

Tyler was sprawled on the bed when Sid entered. His room was round the side of the house and faced out onto the street, so a lot of afternoon light poured in through the window over the bed. The wash of the light highlighted Tyler’s white, clammy complexion. His bed was a double and looked decidedly comfortable, even with the sheets that were slightly passed their best and the pile of dirty clothes at the bottom. The room was deceptively big and curved in the far corner where the house had once had another large bay window. Now the area was piled high with hockey gear and a large, ancient desk was groaning under the weight of library books. Tyler was curled around his laptop but slowly shut it as he stared up at him.

“Er…hey, Sid.”

Sid kicked the door shut behind him for something to do.

“Hi.”

“What are you-?”

“Food. I brought you, er, something to make you feel better.”

Tyler sat up in his bed. He was topless and the sickly white hue of his skin made his tattoos stark. Sid looked down at the food in his hands and back up again.

“It’s chicken soup. My Grandma always used to make it for me when I was feeling sick.” Sid could feel his words crashing to the ground in front of him, like watching a bird fall from the sky, “And…er, yeah, I just thought it might…cheer you up.”

Tyler stared at him for a long moment. Then he smiled, long and slow, and ducked his head.

“Thanks, Sid. Thank you.”

When he looked up his eyes looked damp and Sid was taken aback for a second.

“I can leave it here if…”

“No, no. Thanks, Sid. That’s really…you didn’t have to do that. How did you even know I was sick?”

“The Russian network,” Sid said, with a laugh that he hoped didn’t sound as uncomfortable as he felt. Tyler decided just to ramp up that uncomfortableness even more by patting the bed next to him.

“Sit.”

Sid appeared to have no self control because he immediately moved to the bed and lowered himself down. There were half empty bottles of Gatorade scattered on most of the surface of the bedside table, and a book, a watch and two tangled charger cables took up the rest of the space, so he slid the chicken soup container onto the floor instead. Tyler shuffled himself back against the wall, giving Sid space to lean back against the headboard and stretch one of his legs out on the bed. Tyler’s eyes were red up close, his hair a mess and a little sweaty. He was only wearing a ratty pair of boxers underneath the sheets, Sid saw as he made himself comfortable. He did his very best not to think about that as Tyler pushed his hair back from his face and laughed.

“You are seriously the nicest person I know, Sid.”

“Don’t worry about it. You OK?”

Tyler looked out the window for a moment then fiddled with his laptop with his obscenely long fingers.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to be a downer, I knew you were really busy with assignments and stuff.”  
  
Sid didn’t really know what to say to that. He had a whole speech prepared in his head, one that the guys helped him put together the day before. He had to find a way to get around to it, but he just wasn’t sure what the opener would be. He was so busy thinking about how to start that he almost didn’t hear what Tyler said next.

“I’m…look, Sid, I’m not really sick.”

Sid couldn’t help but look at him up and down.

“Ok I am sick but not _really_. I’m actually really, really hungover.”

Tyler looked up at him through his lashes but it took a moment for Sid to get out anything. In the end all he could manage was ‘oh’.

“I feel like shit, don’t get me wrong. And it’s thirty six hours later and I still can’t handle any food and the room is still kinda spinning but it’s not like I’m actually ill.”

Sid kept his eyes down at his hands and not the view of Tyler’s obnoxiously sharp muscles angling underneath the waistband of his boxers.

“Must be a pretty bad hangover if it’s from Tuesday night.”

Tyler shook his head, “No, I went out against the next night, with some guys from my course. I think to be honest I was still drunk from our night.”

“Oh. Well...that still sounds like being ill. Chicken soup still helps.”

Tyler sat up and drew his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them and his chin settled on the blankets that covered them. They were quiet for a while and Sid could feel his skin itching under his clothes like his body were trying to wriggle out of itself. Why did he do this? He tried to be affectionate and loving to the guy he had a crush on and he ended up massively overreacting to the guy’s simple hangover. This was such bad timing.

He was about to apologise and run out of their as fast as he could when he realised Tyler was still staring at the other side of the room, curled around himself, and he wasn’t saying anything.

“I don’t think it deserves chicken soup,” Tyler said, out of nowhere.

“Well…how are you feeling?”

“Everything hurts. My head is spinning, and I think I might throw up. And I’ve got the shakes.”

Sid waited, watching the points of his shoulder blades flex as he huddled further.

“I’m pretty used to it.” Tyler continued, his voice raw and muffled between his knees, “I drink too much. I’m too stupid to know when to stop.”

“What do you mean?”

Tyler looked up at him, a little pleadingly, but couldn’t meet his eyes for long.

“That’s why I transferred from Boston. I was really, really stupid in my first year. I drank way too much, and I behaved like an idiot.” He scrubbed at his damp hair and Sid could see the force his other hand was gripping the bed sheet, “I’m trying really, really hard not to do the same here but…I just can’t help myself. When I’m out with other people I have to get completely wasted. I don’t know how to say no or how to stop.”

Sid didn’t know what to say to that. He looked at the cracked skin over Tyler’s knuckles and thought about the night he and Geno had dragged him home, a limp and totally unconscious mess hanging off them. He thought about how ashamed Tyler had been that they’d helped him, even though college was the exact sort of place most people did that stupid shit to their friends once in a while.

“My college in Boston got sick of me doing it and my name coming up in all the disturbance calls the campus guys got. They suggested, _really hard_ , that I transfer. It was like kicking me out without actually having to say the words. My grades were kind of OK and the admissions people here were really nice. I think the guy who interviewed me took pity on me. I really don’t want to do the same again but I _keep_ doing it.”

“You’re not going to do the same again,” Sid said, eventually. He pressed his shoulder harder against Tyler’s, “A couple of nights isn’t the same.”

“Yeah but it could be. Believe me, I know what I’m like.”

A tear fell down Tyler’s cheek and Sid sat up in a panic, “Tyler…”

Tyler wiped furiously at his face and leant away from him, “No, I’m fine. It’s ok. I just..I hate being sick, I hate being on my own and not being able to do anything. I just end up thinking too much. It’s fine. I’m sorry.”

Sid stared helplessly at him for a minute as Tyler tried to get himself together. In the end Sid couldn’t bare it anymore, and slipped an arm around Tyler’s shoulder.

You are being his captain, Sid told himself, and his friend. Just leave it like that.

“You won’t screw up your second chance, Tyler. None of us will let you. You’re allowed to have fun and get drunk every now and then. Just give yourself a break. And if you’re still struggling with it later in the year you can see someone about it.”

Tyler grumbled something unintelligible into his knees.

“What?”  
  
He lifted his head and spoke again, “I do it when I’m nervous. When I’m with new people, or I don’t know anyone. I’m fine with my friends back home. But when I was in Boston...the guys I used to hang out with thought it was hilarious."

He bit his lip, sighed, and then the whole story came flooding out of Tyler in one go...

The group of guys in his freshman dorm, all of them going to get drunk together, and Tyler anxious enough to just keep drinking way past his limit.

The guys thinking it was hilarious, claiming him a legend and the best to drink with the next day. And instead of letting it be a one off, Tyler letting it happen every time, fearing they wouldn’t like him if he didn’t.

How he went out with his hockey team and a few of these guys and having his captain tell him the next day he needed to find new friends, because pouring alcohol down his throat and getting him to do daring and criminal stuff on camera was not what friends did. Tyler blew up at him, didn’t want to believe that his friends would be trying to humiliate him.

And then finding a group chat on his roommate’s phone, filled with videos and images of him drunk, passed out on the street, dancing, making out with people he didn’t remember - alongside messages with challenges and dares set by the rest of them to see who could get Tyler to do the most ridiculous thing by the end of the year. There was a lot of money riding on that bet. So not friends, at all, just idiots he had been too desperate to lose.

Tyler had left college early, only came back to hand in some assignments, and found out he was being asked to leave.

After a summer spent on the couch feeling sorry for himself, he had scraped himself back together and got a transfer. Closer to home, less of a party school, hoping it would be a place he could feel at home in.

Once he’d finished talking Sid realised how hard he was squeezing him around the shoulder. He relaxed his hold a bit and let Tyler get his breath back.

“It’s ok, now,” Tyler said, looking up at him with watery eyes, “It is. I don’t feel here like I did there, not really. But still...when I go out, like with the team, I just feel like that’s the only way to behave that makes people like me. I’m still trying to work it out, I guess. How to go out and not go too far.”

“You know we’d like you, Tyler, even if you didn’t drink anything?”

Tyler nodded a little. Sid’s thumb was rubbing gently against the bare skin of Tyler’s shoulder, but he didn’t stop it.

Eventually Tyler got himself together and Sid’s arm fell away.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just burst all that out.”  
  
“No, it’s ok. Don’t worry about it.”

The tender moment was broken by the loud and unmistakable growl of Tyler’s stomach.

“Oops. Sorry. Fancy some of your soup?”

Tyler tried to get up but he looked ready to fall over even before the door. Sid bullied him back into bed and took the chicken soup downstairs, assuring him that he could work out a microwave and two sets of bowls and spoons. There was no-one in the kitchen, but Sid could hear Rads having a loud conversation with Val in the living room. He ferried the bowls upstairs after the microwave pinged and found Tyler doing his best to tidy up his bed. Sid handed over his soup and took a step towards trying to work out where the desk chair was under all the mess, but Tyler insisted.

“No, no, no, come back here.”

Sid let himself be pulled down by his shirt onto the bed, doing his best not to spill any of their soup. They slurped in companionable silence for a while. Under Tyler’s instruction Sid fished out some painkillers from the bedside table. Sid tried his very best to pretend he hadn’t seen the condoms and lube at the back of the drawer. By the time they had finished the soup and the painkillers had kicked in, he was looking a little better.

“That was amazing, man. You’re a great cook.”

“You’ve only had my pancakes and chicken soup.”

“And they were both amazing. If you make a good grilled cheese then I might hire you to be my chef.” It was a silly compliment but they both laughed, and Sid didn’t fail to notice that Tyler’s shoulder was now pressed right against his, “Who taught you how to cook?”

“Oh, no-one. I just did a lot of practice one summer, I figured out I kind of liked it.”

“What’s your favourite thing to cook?”

Sid licked his spoon and shuffled their empty bowls into a stack onto the floor.

“Rosemary roast chicken.”

“Why?”

Sid didn’t know how he’d ended up sat half-on, half-in Tyler’s bed talking about cooking, but he didn’t really want to move.

“It’s really simple to do, and it doesn’t sound like much, but if you do it right it tastes amazing. Particularly when it’s cold outside, and you just want something to make you feel less frozen.”

“The _only_ thing I can cook well is a grilled cheese. But it’s the best grilled cheese you’ll ever taste.”

“You’ll have to make it for me and we’ll see about that.”

“Maybe we should. But don’t let me do anything else. I nearly burnt my Mom’s kitchen down in the summer.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah, they had to call the fire department and everything. Mom totally banned me from cooking unsupervised. Think my Mom would _love_ you in the kitchen though.”

“My Mom doesn’t like me in her kitchen either, she says I make too much mess. I get all the pans out, all the food out the cupboards, she _hates_ it.”

“Bet your parents like the food, though.”

Sid shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. But my Dad doesn’t really like me cooking.”

Tyler scrunched his face up adorably, turning his neck awkwardly to look right up at Sid, “What? Why?”

Sid wasn’t sure how he got himself stuck down this dead end. Any conversation about his Dad was just a quick way to kill the mood.

“He’s a bit old fashioned. Men don’t cook, you know, it’s a ‘girls’ thing.”

“That’s _stupid_. What’s girly about a roast chicken? Or, like, steak and fries? Or hell, even cake. It’s just food.”

Sid felt his cheeks heat up as he laughed, “Oh, I know. But he still didn’t really like it. That summer I got into cooking he just kept going on about it. I think, though, he was still mad about the hockey thing.”

Tyler made a thoughtful humming noise, “Well…sometimes parents don’t know what they’re talking about. What does your Dad know? Being a good cook is useful and sexy as hell.”

Sid choked on his own spit a little.

Tyler angled his head towards Sid and smiled up at him, “So we should definitely have a cook-off. I’ll make my grilled cheese, you make your roast chicken.”

“Deal.”

They talked for another two hours. Sid had a shock when he saw the time. He had an essay to do, and laundry to do, and he promised Geno he’d help him with his English homework again. He reluctantly made his excuses to leave. The day hadn’t gone as planned. He hadn’t made a move, or admitted to any of his feelings.  
  
Then again, neither had Tyler. Maybe...maybe Sid was right and his friends were wrong about this whole thing.

“Thanks for making me feel better, Sid. Not that I really deserve it for just a stupid hangover.” Sid opened his mouth but Tyler barrelled on, “And you didn’t have to listen to me go on about…everything. So, thanks.”

“It’s no problem Tyler, really.”

Sid swallowed heavily. He couldn’t say it now, not like this. He wanted to, but Tyler was still red-eye from crying and pale from nausea. He couldn’t bring up this overwhelming feeling whilst he looked like this. He’d wait.

“Feel better Tyler.”

Tyler blinked, looked a little surprise, then smiled, “Thanks, Sid.”

* * *

  
Sid reached the top of the stairs and fished out his keys. It had been a long, heavy day of work and he had yet to detangle his mind from the intricacies of source paper evaluation. He yawned as he jammed his key into the lock. To his surprise, the door was already open. He was sure Geno had a seminar, and Flower was at Vero’s. He stepped into the hallway and nearly bumped into Geno standing right there with his arms folded. Rads was in the apartment too, planted in the centre of the room. Sid blinked at them both.

“What’s going on?”

“Wait one minute,” Rads said, sternly. Geno glowered at Sid and gestured towards the couch space between him and Rads.

“Sit.”

Sid wanted to tell them both this was absurd, he was an adult, he didn’t have to what they told him on command. But he knew that look in Geno’s eye, and Rads was frankly terrifying right now, so he sat down obediently. There was nothing on the TV, no beer, and Sid really thought that this might be the start of an incident that would get both these boys kicked out of the country.

“What’s going on? I thought you had a seminar, Geno.”  
  
“Cancelled. Just wait.”

Footsteps on the stairs made them all turn to look at the door. There was a knock and Geno called out something in his native language. Sid wanted to ask what the hell was going on, again, but then Val opened the door and ushered Tyler in. Oh. Shit.

Tyler frowned at the trio on the couch and looked anxiously at Val.

“What’s happening?”

“We’re staging another intervention,” Rads said gruffly. He crooked a finger at Tyler and he obediently went over to the couch. Geno hustled him into the spot next to Sid. And even though Sid now knew exactly what was going on, he still couldn’t quite believe their friends had the nerve.

“Does Val want to go back to Russia again?” Tyler asked, still confused.

“No. It’s about you two.”

Val shut the apartment door with finality and settled himself on the far end of the couch.

“Who two?”

“You and Sid.”

Sid saw the way a blush jumped up Tyler’s neck and to his ears, like a red wine stain on a carpet.

“Er, not sure what you-”

“It’s ridiculous,” Geno said, interrupting Tyler without hesitation, “You like each other. You have since the first time you met, and we all bored of you looking sad.”

“All I hear all day is ‘Sid this, Sid that, Sid said this’,” Rads said, making a yapping gesture with his hand, “It’s so boring.”

Val nodded solemnly, “Just _do_ something.”

Sid wanted to argue, felt an unusual mix of anger and humiliation and frustration right in his chest - but then all three Russians exchanged a look, got up off the couch and left. The apartment door shut behind them followed by the heavy sound of a body leaning back against it.

“OK. I think they made their point,” Tyler said.

“This is so…god, what right do they have to-?”

Tyler stopped him with a kiss. Sid felt it like an electric shock, from his lips and down to his fingers. Fingers that had a mind of their own and grabbed at Tyler’s waist as he angled himself closer. He’d barely got with the programme and then Tyler pulled away, just an inch or so.

“They’re not wrong though, are they?” Tyler asked, his breath against Sid’s lips. Sid tried not to gape unattractively but words momentarily left him. “Because if everyone got this wrong and you don’t like me, and I just jumped you on your couch, I am going to have run off and join the circus or something. I don’t think I can transfer for a second time.”

Sid couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up and out of him. Oh god it was one of those honking ones that every friend ever had ribbed him for, and he was still so close to Tyler’s beautiful face, now flushed and rosy. Tyler didn’t pull away.

“No. They’re not wrong.” He slipped his hand around Tyler’s neck and finally got a feel of those curls between his fingers, “Everyone got this right.”

They kissed again, which was a little trickier because neither of them could not stop smiling.

“I liked you the moment I saw you,” Sid said, picking up where he left off when they finally came up for air, “When you came over with Rads.”

“Admit it, it was taking my shoes off at the door right? That did it for you.”

“Totally. Guess your face isn’t half bad either.”

Tyler giggled. It sounded and felt even better up close, in Sid’s arms.

“Apparently I couldn’t stop talking about you when we got home after that. I couldn’t believe this hot third year would give me the time of day, never mind stand and talk to me in the kitchen for hours.”

Tyler pulled his hand out from where it was trapped between them and traced his fingers down the side of Sid’s jaw, “And then…”

“What?”

“We went to hockey practice and you seemed a bit weird with me. And then you were chatting with Nate and he took you off for lunch and I thought you guys were something.”

“Me and Nate?” Sid asked, incredulously, pushing Tyler back a little so he could look him right in the eye, “You thought Nate and I were dating?”

“Not dating, maybe, but I thought maybe you were hooking up.”

“We’re just friends.”

“I know. I worked it out eventually, but…man, it crushed me at that first practice.”

“You have no idea how crushed I was when I saw you there.”

“Why?”

“Jamie Benn.”

Sid slid back to settle on the cushions as his shoulder was killing him. He took a quick glance at Tyler’s lips but didn’t want to get derailed, “You couldn’t stop going on about how beautiful his hockey was.”

“It is.”

“I know, it is. But I thought you fancied him.”

Tyler kissed him again, feverish this time and determined. Sid pushed him back gently because he needed to say this now.

“I didn’t think you felt the same way. Everyone told me you did, but I didn’t want to jeopardise us being friends.”  
  
“You brought me soup when you thought I was sick,” Tyler said, close enough that their lips brushed, “And stayed there with me, even when I went on and on about my problems. I thought you were amazing. But...I didn’t think you liked me that way. Especially after the night of the party.”

Sid frowned and pulled back a little more, “What do you mean?”  
  
“I was all _over_ you! And you were all over me. I mean, I know I was drunk, but even I remember that.”  
  
Sid shrugged. It was uncomfortable to do with Tyler’s bodyweight right against him, though he wasn’t complaining, “I just thought you got handsy when you're drunk.”

Tyler laughed, “Well yeah dude, I do. But not like _that_ . At one point I went to kiss you and you totally avoided it.”  
  
“What? No, I didn’t!”  
  
“You did! You did, I remember.”  
  
“I’d remember if you tried to kiss me.”  
  
“Really?” Tyler ran a finger down Sid’s collarbone, “Have you seen yourself on tequila?”  
  
Sid closed his eyes in embarrassment, “Oh god.”  
  
Tyler shushed him with a kiss, and Sid’s groan turned into a whole different kind of noise when Tyler’s narrow hips ground down on his, “Never mind. We worked it out.”  
“Hmm.”

“I’m so glad you don’t fancy Jamie,” Sid said, kiss-dumb and lacking in oxygen, and ran his hands through Tyler’s hair.

“Hey, I’m not going to lie, he’s pretty hot. But I think a lot of people are hot.” Tyler smiled in that slow, blossoming way that made Sid’s stomach squeeze and his pants feel uncomfortable tight, “That doesn’t mean I want to hold his hand and kiss him until he can’t breathe and go for a date tonight.” His voice lowered to something syrupy right in Sid’s ear, “Also doesn’t mean I want to blow him on his couch.”

“Good to know.”

There was a muffled thumping out in the hallway and then Flower’s voice, “Oh hey, did I miss it? What happened?”

There was a bit of indeterminable mumbling and then a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Sid called, sounding as tired as he felt. Flower poked his head in.

“All good?”

“Yes, Flower, fine,” Sid said, rolling his eyes. As if Tyler draped all across him wasn’t a good sign. The three Russians tumbled in as well. Once they clocked the sight in front of them they began a long round of back slapping and self congratulation in Russian. Sid could feel more than see Tyler roll his eyes. Sid stood up, snagged one of Tyler’s hands along the way and manoeuvred him upright.

“We’re going out.”

“Are we?”

“Yes. I’m taking you on a date.”

Sid took his opportunity to use his threatening voice, the one he used to get his line under control on the rink, and said to the two idiots he called best friends and the two equally idiotic guys who he kind of could call friends now, “ _No-one_ follow us.”

They went to a burger place in town - they weren’t really dressed for anything more upmarket - and talked all the way through their meal. Then they found a bar downtown with a view of the water and a casual terrace area. They drank until the sun went down and Sid warmed his hand on Tyler’s thigh, feeling like his ribs might crack open at any minute.

They spent the night at Tyler’s house. Bigger bed, Tyler pointed out enthusiastically, and his housemates were all at the one bar in town that showed European soccer games. Flower sent some innuendo-fuelled texts to Sid later that night that he ignored. It wasn’t hard when Tyler was spread out naked in the bed next to him, panting lightly in the heat of the room.  


End file.
